


Reckless

by ab82



Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, lots of feelings, spoiler alert if you haven't seen the S2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab82/pseuds/ab82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>audrey jensen has been called "reckless" many a time in her life. up until now, she's always associated it with bad things. but hearing it from emma duval's mouth -- well, that tends to give it more of a positive connotation.</p><p>(aka the one where audrey's an unusally emotional mess in the immediate aftermath of the showdown with the killer, and emma's just as much of a mess)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of a random mess i wrote at like 2 in the morning, so i apologize if it's not very good. i just wanted to write some post-finale little blurb. if you enjoy, please feel free to comment -- i love feedback. thank you for reading!

Audrey Jensen has been called “reckless” many a time in her life, and it’s never necessarily led to anything good. In fact, she kind of tends to associate the word with bad things. When she was four, playing in the mud with the neighborhood boys, and she’d slipped and broken her arm — her mother didn’t get over that one for a few years. When she was eight, and the boys at school told her she was “too much of a girl” now for them to play with her, and so she’d chased them home trying to get a straight answer. That had ended in a phone call from the principal and several handwritten apology notes on her behalf. (But Audrey just wanted to _understand._ Just because her hair was longer than theirs and her voice a little higher didn’t mean she couldn’t play with them, right? According to her parents, it did. That was the year Audrey first cut her hair short.) When she was twelve, and she saw Emma Duval in a  _different_ way for the first time, all sparkling eyes and dimpled smile, and the first thing she did was run home and write in her journal about it. (And when her father came home from church early one day, asked her what she was writing in her journal so furiously about, only to snatch it from her and drag her to the next Youth Group when he read that a girl was the subject of her late-afternoon daydreaming. But Audrey never told him it was Emma; that was a secret she promised herself she’d never tell, _ever_. She abandoned her journals and turned to the camera instead, something whose secrets she could lock away with a password and a USB drive, something that her father wouldn’t even think to touch.) And when she was sixteen, and her ex-best friend’s boyfriend tried to kill her, but instead of escaping, she kicked a chair his way and told the first girl she’d ever loved to _run_ , _go_ , _get out of here_. 

 

And now she’s still sixteen, mind still slightly hazy from whatever concoction of drugs Kieran had given her, legs dangling off the back of an ambulance as she watches the girl she tried to save talk to the police. She doesn’t know how much more fucking proof they could need — Kieran’s DNA will surely be all over the knife he’d used to stab Emma and Eli, and the cops wouldn’t have to look twice at her own high school transcript to realize there was no way in hell she had enough of a grasp of chemistry to drug herself without dying. But frankly, as long as she’s not thrown across the hood of a cop car again, at this moment, Audrey Jensen could care less about what the police are doing. She’s got bigger things to worry about.

 

Like Brooke, for starters. Kieran had Audrey's phone in his car, but the police had thankfully retrieved it for her so she could call her father and let him know what was going on (he’d been at a national ministers’ convention in Los Angeles, but he’d promised Audrey he would take the first flight out, which likely wouldn’t be until the next morning), so Audrey had seen all the frantic texts from Noah, detailing Brooke’s injury and also asking where the _hell_ she was. The police hadn’t wanted her to contact anyone but immediate family at first, just while they got past the initial craziness of getting Kieran in custody, checking the orphanage for any other victims, and giving her and Emma an initial check-up in the ambulance. But the EMT in the ambulance had just told her they were about to take the girls to the hospital for a secondary check, so Audrey figured now was a better time than any to call Noah and let him know she was alive. It made her shudder to think that her best friend could not only be worrying over Brooke’s safety right now, but also worrying over hers and Emma’s.

 

Her hands are still shaking — something that Audrey prays the EMTs won’t notice, because the absolute _last_ thing she wants is to be draped with one of those cheap blankets and fussed over like a sobbing child — so it takes her a few tries to dial Noah’s number. She knows it by heart, has had it memorized since the spring of eighth grade, and something about it, the way it just feels _natural_ and like _home_ to be calling him like this, instinctively calms her down, clamps down on the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Just thinking about Noah and how much she loves him — and it’s not even in a romantic way, contrary to popular belief — helps her, makes her heart stop doing that weird skitter-jump-bang thing it’s been repeating non-stop since she woke up in that chair.

 

Noah picks up on the first ring. “Audrey?” he says, tentatively, breathless, like someone’s knocked the wind out of him and he can’t get it back. Audrey’s heard Noah in so many different ways — lovesick, depressed, scared, angry, happy (that’s her favorite one of all) — but she’s never heard him quite like this, when he sounds like the world’s just been kicked out from under his feet. 

 

“Hey, Foster,” she manages to get out. “Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?” That’s all she can say before she’s suddenly in tears, the ugly, heaving kind, where they’re pouring down her cheeks and giving her a runny nose and she can _taste_ the salt on her tongue. And Audrey’s not sure how to react to this — she’s never cried like this with Noah listening, and _sure_ she’d been doing plenty of crying in her room since Emma found out she’d brought Piper to Lakewood, but she hasn’t cried like this since _Rachel_ died, and even then maybe not quite so hard. Because this isn’t pretty, refined, fragile crying reserved for girls who look like dolls, this is intense, heart-on-her-sleeve, raw and vulnerable _sobbing_ , the kind Nina would’ve taunted her in the hallways for and something Kieran would most certainly have cackled in delight at. And Audrey doesn’t like it, having her emotions on display like this, but she’s just now realizing how tired she is, and how scared she’s been, and what a relief it’s going to be to finally have this fucking _over with_.

 

An EMT with a dark brown ponytail, all too similar to Piper’s, hands her a tissue, and Audrey turns herself away from everyone else so she can wipe her face, hoping that all of her emotions will disappear on the cotton, right along with her tears. But of course that doesn’t really work, and she’s still sniffling a little bit when she shoves the crumpled tissue in her pocket and holds her phone up to her ear again. “Sorry. Got distracted for a second,” she tries to lie, but Noah sees right through it. 

 

“Audrey, this is going to sound like the dumbest question in the world, and it probably is, but… are you okay?” he asks softly, and Audrey wants to pretend that she knows how to respond to this, but the truth is, she doesn’t. Because she’s not sure if she’s okay. She’s not sure if she _wants_ to be, because wouldn’t that be unfair, when Eli’s growing cold on the second floor of an abandoned orphanage and Brooke’s got a hole the size of Lakewood in her stomach, and it’s all because of her? Does she even _deserve_ to be okay? 

 

But she knows that Noah doesn’t want to hear her angsty bullshit right now, so she just exhales quietly and says, “Yeah, Noah. I’m fine. How’s Brooke?” Because Brooke is what’s important right now, and Audrey has to ask, especially when she can hear the beeping of monitors and machines in the background.

 

“She’s doing well. I’m with her right now, they brought her back from surgery like ten minutes ago, but she’s still unconscious. Probably will be for another couple of hours. But they said she’s gonna make it,” Noah tells her. Audrey lets out a sigh of relief at that, some of the tightness in her chest easing. 

 

“Good,” she whispers. And, yeah, in the face of all that’s happened tonight, that _is_ good. Honestly, Brooke’s been a real light point in some of the darker moments that Audrey’s gone through lately; her special brand of snark, so like Audrey’s own sarcastic tendencies, has made Audrey laugh at times when she didn’t think she could. And the girl is _smart_ , despite what other people might say. Brooke Maddox is so much more than the stereotypes others might try to pin on her based on first impressions, and yes, she’s flawed — but she’s one of the last people Audrey has left, and suddenly, the crushing weight of guilt settles upon her chest again, because Brooke is in that hospital bed because of _her_. _She_ brought Piper to Lakewood, and Emma was right to be so furious with her. And the thoughts that follow, Audrey can’t help them, doesn’t necessarily want them, but they skitter through her brain anyway: _You should’ve just let Kieran kill you_. _Why do you keep getting so lucky? Why are you the only one who never ends up in the hospital? Why are you always a final girl? Emma’s probably so sick of you. She probably wishes you were dead, not Eli—_

 

“Audrey? Hey, are you still there?” Noah’s voice has gone all frenzied and frantic, and Audrey is broken out of her thoughts as she realizes that her best friend still has no idea what’s happened to her, or that they’ve finally caught the killer.

 

“Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t catch your question,” she says, because if she tells him the truth, that she’s lost herself in this heavy cloud of guilt and self-deprecation already, she knows it’ll just worry him — and he does _not_ need anything else to worry about.

 

“I asked you what happened. Are you safe? Did you get out of the theater? You gotta get to the hospital if you can, I think I know who the killer is. Where’s Emma? And Kieran, I haven’t seen him since—”

 

“Kieran was the killer, Noah,” Audrey cuts in. “He — he used some kind of drug to knock me out at the Zenith, took me to this orphanage, had me tied up to a chair and dressed me up like the killer. Emma said he sent a picture to her of me at the orphanage to lure her out here, and when she found me, Kieran showed up, trying to act like he wanted to help her. And then Eli came up and—” Audrey can’t help it; her voice gets thick as her eyes fill with those _stupid_ tears again. She doesn’t know why; she didn’t even like Eli, but something about seeing someone her age, someone who could’ve just as easily been _Noah_ , die in front of her eyes like that, well… It’s different from when she and Emma killed Piper. Piper was a psychopath with a mask and a penchant for blood. Eli was their fellow student, a guy she’d had classes with, someone who had been a little too obviously in love with Emma. Even if he _was_ a creep who had snuck into girls’ bedrooms, that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

 

She clears her throat and continues, because she knows if she doesn’t finish quickly, she’ll have to get off the phone for the drive to the hospital; it looks like Emma is finishing up her interview. “Eli had been stabbed, and he said that Kieran had done it. He’d called the police and played dead, and then he told us that the thing that happened with that girl in Atlanta was actually Kieran’s fault, and that Kieran lied to this girl’s mom so he didn’t get in trouble. So Eli came to Will’s funeral as revenge, or some stupid crap like that. _Petty_ stuff, not serial-killer-worthy,” Audrey clarifies. “And then he went to stab Kieran, and Emma — Emma shot him. She thought he was the killer. Or at least that’s what she told me. And then I woke up, and Kieran told us, ‘You will feel safe again.’ And apparently that was like something the killer said on the phone to Emma, because she figured out it was him.”

 

“Holy crap,” Noah breathes. “That’s — that’s crazy, Audrey.”

 

“I know,” she whispers. _Trust me, I know._ “We’re fine now. The police came, and Kieran’s in custody. Emma’s finishing talking to the police right now. The EMTs want to take us to the hospital to get checked out again, so I’ll see you soon and I’ll tell you the rest then, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Noah says. He pauses for a moment, and then adds, “I’m really glad you’re okay. I was worried, Audrey. I thought I’d lost you, and I— I didn’t know what I was gonna do.”

 

_Oh, Noah._ Audrey lets out a shaky breath, trying to contain the emotions that are so quickly spilling out of her, and murmurs, “Don’t worry about that, Foster. You’re not gonna lose me. _Ever_. And that’s a promise.”

 

Noah lets out a laugh at that, and Audrey can only smile, because she knows that laugh, his nervous, don’t-say-any-more-or-I’ll-get-emotional laugh, and that’s how she knows they’re going to be okay. “You better keep that promise, Jensen. Okay, I’ll see you at the hospital. Love you, Bicurious.”

 

And it’s not the first time that Noah has ever said he loves her, but this time will mean more than most others, and Audrey knows she’s not going to forget it. “Love you too, Virgin,” she says quietly, still clutching the phone for a long moment after Noah’s hung up.

 

“Audrey?” It’s Emma, standing right in front of her and looking far more beautiful than a girl who’s just fought off a psycho killer should _ever_ be. “Can I sit?” 

 

Audrey nods and scoots over, making as much room as she can, but Emma’s still close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating off of the other girl. Audrey wants to be closer, but she doesn’t dare try, not when she can see the pain in Emma’s eyes and know that she has so much to account for. “The EMTs said that we’re going to head to the hospital in a second, they just have to call in first—” she starts, but Emma doesn’t let her finish.

 

“I shot him, Audrey,” she whispers. “He was just trying to help me, and I-I— I _shot him_.” There’s a raw kind of pain in those green eyes that Audrey knows so well, and in this moment, she would give anything to see that pain go away. Because she knows what it feels like, to feel responsible for the death of an innocent, and she also knows that there’s not much that can be done to take away that feeling of responsibility. But _god_ , she wants to take it away for Emma.

 

“You couldn’t have known, Em,” Audrey insists. “There were a lot of people who thought he was the killer. And you didn’t kill him — Kieran did.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says bitterly, tears rolling down her cheeks, and _god_ she’s pretty even when she’s crying. “You’re right. Kieran killed him. My _boyfriend_ killed him. I was always so sure that he was innocent, but he was right in front of me, the whole time.” 

 

“Emma, stop,” she pleads. “ _Nobody_ thought he was the killer, okay? Not even Noah, and he’s pretty much suspected everyone in the entire county. Nobody saw this coming. Kieran was a damn good actor, and no one is gonna blame you for not figuring it out, alright?” 

 

“But I do,” Emma chokes out, shoulders shaking with tears. “ _I_ blame me.” She dissolves into sobs, and Audrey doesn’t process what she’s doing until she feels wetness soaking into her shirt and realizes she’s got Emma’s head on her shoulder. And boy, that was a mistake, because _fuck_ having her close is just _too much_ and Audrey doesn’t know what to do with herself, and these emotions are suddenly a thing that she just can’t handle anymore and she’s absolutely overwhelmed by it all. 

 

“Look, I can’t tell you that life after this is always going to be easy,” Audrey murmurs, rubbing Emma’s back like she always used to. “And I can’t tell you that there aren’t gonna be days when you blame yourself like you are right now. But I can tell you that I’ll be here for you, always, if you want me to be, and that on those days when you do blame yourself, I’ll take the blame for you — because it’s not your fault, Emma. It’s _not_.” 

 

Emma’s sobs stop for a second, and she looks up at Audrey with the sad, sweet half-smile she’s seen too many times in the past year. “Thank you,” she says softly. “And I do want you here. There’s a reason I didn’t let Kieran hurt you, Audrey.”

 

Those words mean more to her than Emma will ever know, but instead of saying the million things she wants to say — _thank you, I missed you, please tell me you don’t hate me_ —she just chuckles and replies, “Good to know. Yeah, I was kinda hoping in the moment that you wouldn’t leave me for dead.” Actually, that’s not true at all — Audrey had been scared as hell, not ready to die, but she would have rather been shot by Kieran than watch Emma die. When she’d thrown that chair Kieran’s way, she hadn’t been thinking about herself at all. But Emma doesn’t need to know that.

 

“You were being reckless, but I wasn’t going to leave you. I’d never do that,” Emma promises. 

 

Audrey lets herself be hopeful for a wonderful, _reckless_ second. “So… are we okay?” she asks, praying silently that she won’t find rejection on Emma’s face.

 

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

 

And suddenly, recklessness has never been a more beautiful thing.


End file.
